As Darkness Falls, Your Heart Will Be True
by MossRose10
Summary: The day after the mill strike, John Thornton comes calling on Margaret Hale for an important errand. However, he couldn't have picked a worse time. Can their encounter be salvaged? An episode 2 fix-it.


Margaret braced herself against the doorframe in front of her. Exhaustion slinked through her body in a way only created by stress and lack of rest. She had only gotten home a couple of hours ago from an all-night vigil with Bessy, and no sooner had she walked in the door then her mother had called for her. Thankfully, her mother had asked for tea, so Margaret had been able to have a few sips of that before company had come calling. Still, the lack of rest and food in the last day or so was definitely making itself known in the cramping headache at the nape of her neck and the unconscious tightening of her jaw, and now Mr. Thornton stood on the other side of the door wishing to speak with her on an unknown matter. Well, she had suspicions about why he was here; it likely had to do with the way she had acted at the mill. Was he here to scold her? Tell her that once again she had spoken on mill matters that she had no business interfering with or even any understanding of? Or did he think he had a duty to-? Unwilling to follow that line of thought, she raised her head and settled her shoulders before pushing open the door and walking just inside the room. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Mr. Thornton step away from staring out the window and walk around her to close the door behind her. He stood so close to her that she could feel his breath on her face. Was it just her imagination, or could she feel his heat radiating towards her? Thankfully, he stepped away before she had to consider moving her tired body away to a more appropriate distance.

As he paced away from her, he began, "I've not noticed the color of this fruit." He turned to face her. "Ms. Hale, I'm afraid I was very ungrateful yesterday."

Margaret nearly wept in relief as his intentions became clear. "You have nothing to be grateful for," she replied, a small smile flitting across her face.

"I think that I do."

"Well, I did only the least that anyone would have," she maintained.

"That can't be true." There was bafflement in his voice.

"Well, I was, after all, responsible for placing you in danger. I would have done the same for any man there."

"Any man?" he asked. "So you approve of that violence? You think I got what I deserve?"

"Oh, no, of course not," she explained, trying to keep the conversation's tone calm, "But they were desperate. I know that if you were to talk with them-"

"I forgot, you imagine them to be your friends," he dismissed.

She tried again, "I know if you were to be reasonable-"

"Me! Are you saying that I am unreasonable?"

"If you would talk with them, and not set the soldiers on them, I know that they—"

"They will get what they deserve," he firmly said, tone brooking no arguments. He blinked several times and looked down. After taking a deep breath, he changed his approach, "Ms. Hale, I didn't just come here to thank you. I came because—I get very likely—I know I've never found myself in this position before. It's difficult to find the words. Ms. Hale, my feelings for you are very strong."

Margaret couldn't believe what she was hearing. She had been sure that he had come on simpler business once he had begun, but even _hearing_ him speak of deep feelings made her head spin. How could she answer such sentiments? She hardly knew him. Half of their interactions intersected with his being a mill owner. How much did she really know of him beyond that? Well, she knew some, and there were times he seemed almost kind. But he seemed so rough at moments, too! And he wants to speak of such things to her now? Now, when she feels as if she is thinking through too much of a haze to come up with an answer of any kind on a moment's notice? "Please, stop. Will you please don't go any further?"

"Excuse me?"

The confusion was evident in his voice, so she forced herself to shakily continue, "Please don't continue in that way. It's not the way of a gentleman."

His anger rose in a moment. How could she refuse to even hear him? He knew full well that she was likely to reject him, that all of his hopes for happiness were very probably going to be dashed to pieces, but for her to say that even _expressing_ his feelings was ungentlemanly! Was he so beneath her in her eyes that even admiring her was considered unseemly? "I'm well aware that, in your eyes at least, I'm not a gentleman, but I think I deserve to know why I am offensive."

"No! Not offensive!" She couldn't let him think that! That wasn't what she was trying to say at all! She was trying _not_ to offend him, to _not_ let her tongue have its own way when she was nearly insensible! "No, Mr. Thornton, please don't think that," her voice petered out, "simply ill-timed! I'm sorry, but at this moment, I—my mind—I cannot—please Mr. Thornton, you must understand! My mother is dying, and my father does not know it. My closest friend in this city is dying, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. Just yesterday, I was confronted with a misery capable of driving a crowd to violence—misery that I cannot change and, in your own words, have perhaps made worse by my very attempts to help in the only way that I know how. I no longer know if I have truly aided them or simply helped them further into desperation." As she stopped speaking, her jaw tightened further, driving the pain there up to pound in her temple, as well. It pulsed against the bones of her skull and wrapped her eyes in another layer of fatigue that reminded her of the sleep she had missed during her bedside vigil.

Mr. Thornton's face had first relaxed in relief upon hearing that his words were not at fault, but sadness drew across it mere moments later for the heavy weight that Ms. Hale bore on her slim shoulders. "Then will you not let me speak some words that might bring some joy into your life, even if it is only in the thought of hearing of my regard for you?"

The throbbing behind her eyes worsened as she pleaded, "No, Mr. Thornton, I will not. I will not be that cruel to you. Words such as yours deserve better ground to fall on than ears such as mine are in this moment. My mind is so consumed with death and misery and darkness that I think God's very angels could sing of peace and goodwill and I would be hard-pressed to hear other than a funeral knell. So, for both our sakes, I will not let you speak of such things. If you had come a day—an hour—later, perhaps I could have heard you out, but in this moment, I fear I would do us both wrong to hear you." She moved to stand across from him at the table, eyes down-turned. "I hardly know my own mind, you see, and my tongue seems to possess a mind of its own. If you come to speak of what I believe you have come to speak of— of soft feelings spoken from the depths of your heart— then either the misery in my breast will drive you out in the harshest possible way in order to breed itself company in your own soul, or else my weary heart might say things that I would wrestle with in the morning. Not to say that such words would be wrong, for I do not know if they would be wrong, but I would wrestle with them all the same, simply by virtue of the moment in which they were spoken. In either case, I think I would make us both pained wretches if I spoke on such matters today. Perhaps, if such a conversation were not so surprising, I would have known my mind from some earlier time, but as it stands-" Her palms flattened against the table, exhaustion written into the hunch of her shoulders and the shift of her weight onto her arms.

Had she really been so unaware of his feelings? He could easily believe that she did not return them, but for her not to know of his feelings at all? The way that his heart hammered in his chest when she ran to stand between him and the rioting crowd, the way that his blood pounded in his ears when she was struck down, the way his body was attuned to every point of contact between them as he carried her unconscious body into the safety of his home? And yet, she hadn't really given him a true, "No," either. She said that she didn't know what to think of him, that she was surprised by his advances. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was time still to woo her, for affections to blossom as ardently in her breast as they had already grown in his own. He would call on her again to speak with her since she asked it—he would do nearly anything in his power if she would only ask it—but he would ask to court her, instead. With any luck, she'd find it a less foreign idea and would think well enough of him to at least give him the chance to prove himself to her. He hoped that one day she would love, but he would spend the rest of his life pursuing her if she would let him. After all, his practicality could make him patient, and the intervening time would let him get to know her better, too. He could have more long discussions with her. Even arguments over the circumstances of his mill would be welcome as long as Margaret would smile and make peace with him again at the end. He could learn of her hopes and dreams, her family and friends. "You spoke of a friend in ill health, Ms. Hale."

"Bessy Higgins. She has worked in your mill since well before I met her."

"And you would lay her illness at my feet because she worked in my mill?" he quietly inquired, resignedly dropping his own head, certain that she felt it only one more mark in the ledger against him.

"No."

He lifted his head, staring at the crown of her own as it hung between her shoulders.

"I do not lay my coming loss of her at your feet, Mr. Thornton. Do not have such a high opinion of yourself to think that I believe all the ills of the city are created by your hand." Her head raised just enough that he could see her lips twist into a sarcastic, teasing smile. "I do not blame you for her condition. I fault you more for believing that she could not be my friend—" His heart twisted as he remembered his earlier remarks about her friendships with the mill workers. "-but having nowhere to lay blame for her ill health does not lessen the pain of the situation a single jot. Regardless of your low opinion of our relationship, my heart is pained at the thought of losing her all the same."

As silence settled throughout the room, Margaret felt some of the bleakness leech out of her soul, noticed that the brightness of the sun streaming through the window was not truly as harsh as it had felt before. Speaking of the oppressive pain of recent events to a friendly ear had loosened heartache's grip on her heart, lifting the fog enough that she dared to say, "Mr. Thornton, if you would permit me to be so bold as to risk indelicacy."

"Too much boldness has never stopped you before," he interrupted with a joking huff.

Blushing, she continued, "If you still wished to discuss—well, if your business has not—I will be home the afternoon after next. God willing, there will be no more events such as those of yesterday, and I will be better prepared for whatever you wished to—and that way there is less talk than if you called twice tomorrow with your and Papa's lesson. Papa has missed your company since you have been so busy with- Oh! I had forgotten about the mill. Surely you must have your hands full, especially with taking the time this afternoon, oh, Mr. Thornton, forgive me, I wouldn't wish to impose-"

Mr. Thornton's smirk spread into a wide grin, the likes of which Margaret had never before seen cross his face. "Ms. Hale, I would rather speak of my business with you at your earliest convenience than delay because of my mill. It is a matter most important to me."

"And what might we be discussing that is so important, Mr. Thornton," she murmured, slipping in her awkwardness towards more formal speech, "that I might be adequately prepared?"

"To speak frankly, Ms. Hale, it's regarding a personal attachment- the possibility of my courting someone that I care about rather deeply."

"Oh!" That had not been what she was expecting his visit to be about, once he began discussing his feelings. "And who might that be, sir?" She had to know. If he wanted to rescue her reputation, he surely wouldn't want to wait to marry. If he wasn't just trying to do the honorable thing, why did he come? Could he truly have such deep feelings for her? He couldn't possibly.

He stepped around the table to be at her side once more. As she turned to face him, he grasped her left hand and wrapped it in both of his own. "Yourself, Ms. Hale. In my mind, there is no other choice in the matter."

"Myself? Truly? After we have so frequently found ourselves at odds with each other?"

"_Because_ we've found ourselves at odds so often. I may not always agree with you, but I always enjoy hearing you speak your mind. And I should like to hear more of your thoughts when I call in two days-when I ask if you would allow me to court you. I desire to know every piece of you that you see fit to show me and for you to know that our arguments have in no way lessened my regard for you, to perhaps show myself to be more than the harsh mill master that you believe me to be. I would have you know me well enough that you have no doubt of my feelings, or your own, when I ask what I had originally come here to ask, and, perhaps, if I am very fortunate, then you will even say yes to that proposal, when the time comes."

She studied his face, seeing the patience and, dare she say it, love that was written there as he spoke. Wondering at his apparent devotion to her, she realized that he had likely _had_ come to propose marriage but altered the nature of his proposal in response and deference to her own words. He had not only obeyed her request, though he could have forced the discussion, but he had also listened to her troubles. He said he wanted to hear her speak her mind, which Margaret was well aware would not be allowed, much less be considered an agreeable trait, by many proper Southern gentlemen. She marveled that a man that presented himself as so cold in business had such layers of tenderness and concern for others hidden underneath, but she wanted to know more of it. She wanted to understand the complexities of his composition and his heart, and she wanted to understand her own regarding him, because there was certainly at least an inkling of something there. Mind made up, she settled her shoulders and said,"Mr. Thornton, upon reflection, I do not believe that I wish you bring this particular piece of business back in two days' time."

"Might I ask why?" he asked, trepidation creeping into his voice. He feared that he had gone too far today, spoken too freely, asked too much, especially given her earlier pain. He had thought, by virtue of her words, that perhaps her mind had eased enough for such conversation, but if he was wrong, had he ruined all chance with her by doing what she had expressly asked him not to do?

A small but impish smile slid across her face. "I'd rather you ask me now."

"And why is that, Ms. Hale?" he answered, hope beginning to stir anew in his breast at the sight of her gentle smile.

"So that I might say yes."

* * *

Author's Note: Comments are very welcome and appreciated. What did you think of the progression from Margaret's confusion to being ready to court? Was the pacing good and make sense? Did the switches between Margaret's and John's thoughts make sense, or were they confusing? BTW, the title is from "May It Be," originally by Enya, though I particularly know the version done by Celtic Woman. I don't own it or any of the North and South materials produced by BBC or Elizabeth Gaskell, just my own little unpaid contributions in this fanwork.


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